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The parallax of an existential quandary makes its way around to a moment of idealistic ruination in one second, when the last words are, “so none of it really matters.”

It’s a ticket to emptiness and to freedom. Do with it what you will—just don’t try to fill the void, as there’s no thought big enough within your capability. You will die alone.

Instead, you have the options of misery or enlightenment. Or perhaps they aren’t options at all—you are only the product of existence. Nothing is really an option. But that’s the funny thing about language—it can contradict itself without losing meaning. The Tao allows for those possibilities.

After choosing self-described enlightenment, what remains is an outstanding ambition of spiritual significance.

“Wish I was ocean size.”*

*(taken from the lyrics of Ocean Size by Jane’s Addiction, which this is an interpretation of.)